


Birthday Blues

by tacoma_vibes



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Angst and Feels, Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Breaking Bad-esque, Drug Abuse, Drug trafficking, FBI agents, Law Enforcement, M/M, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacoma_vibes/pseuds/tacoma_vibes
Summary: Ty is ticked off that they can't celebrate Zane's birthday on a pool float at some faraway resort. But a drug-trafficking case at work holds up all their attention.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before Touch & Gauex, so Ty and Zane are still partnered together, and aren't out to their colleagues yet. 
> 
> Slight spoilers for Divide & Conquer.

Zane leaned back on his swivel chair and nibbled on the end of his ballpoint pen as he studied the case file before him. It was a bankruptcy scam where the manager of a stock company was looting the 401(k) retirement fund and other assets of his employees discreetly. The criminal manager now faced a court ruling with charges of identity theft and perjury. Because of his expertise in Cyber Crimes, Zane was among the team of agents that launched a ransomware attack on the manager’s work server that led to his arrest. Now Zane was doing a perusal of the final paperwork.

His eyes darted up when he saw Steve Lishman walking towards him. Lishman was an agent in the Counterintelligence Division and they had worked on a few cases together.

“Happy Birthday, Zane,” Lishman said, clapping him on the back.

“Thanks, Steve,” Zane said, grinning.

“All work and no play for the birthday boy, huh?” Lishman said, nodding towards the stack of papers on Zane’s lap.

A few feet away from them Ty gave a strident grunt, shaking his head. He was occupied with his own colossal pile of paperwork.

“Grady’s pouting because we didn’t take him to Disneyland to celebrate,” Zane said, smirking at his partner.

“Hey, the roller coaster rides there are kickass,” Ty retorted, frowning.

“You just want to visit the Sleeping Beauty castle,” Zane teased. He ducked when Ty hurled his glass paperweight at him, catching it effortlessly with one hand. Lishman chuckled at their antics that the whole office had gotten used to by now, and bade them goodbye.

Truthfully, Ty had been dejected because they had to spend the whole day working, and couldn’t even sneak off for a couple of hours to celebrate Zane’s birthday in some solitude. After their fortnight long fiasco at Zane’s ranch in Texas this July, they didn’t dare ask McCoy for leave, lest he would have their heads on a pike. This morning, Ty grumbled under his breath incessantly as he puttered around the kitchen making scrambled eggs. Ty’s birthday fell on Memorial Day and they had the whole weekend to themselves unencumbered by work commitments. But today they were up to their necks in an avalanche of desk work. Ty found the contrast to be harshly unfair. He had even told Zane so.  

Zane had brushed off Ty’s perturbation, assuring him that as long as Ty spent the whole day with him it would be perfect. Zane’s gushing purple prose was a source of never-ending amusement for Ty, and poking fun at his sappy partner always left him feeling chirpy. After breakfast, they ended up fucking on the kitchen counter and running late for office.

Now, Zane winked at him from across his desk, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. Ty had to curb the urge to crawl into his lap and ruffle his hair. That wouldn’t go over well with all their co-workers around. Ty absolutely hated that— having to downplay their affection and pretend they were just friends. Sometimes he had come so close to giving no fucks that he just wanted to grab hold of a microphone, sprint to the office rooftop and announce to the world that Zane was his. But those flights of fancy passed quickly. This was their life until Zane retired. They both had grudgingly come to terms with that.

To make matters worse, Ty was assigned under Zane to scrutinize his dealings with the Vega Cartel during his undercover stint in Miami. Ty had never, ever shared Richard Burns’ doubts about Zane being a cartel mole or that he was conspiring against the Bureau in any capacity. He had taken up that assignment as a means to be closer to Zane and to watch his back from unrelenting cartel thugs. He couldn’t even fathom how it would all play out when he laid out the cards on the table. Zane would be obviously pissed, but Ty hoped to God he’d be given a chance to explain himself. He usually didn’t allow himself to dwell on these unsavory thoughts, but sometimes they crept up on him like a dreary winter chill.

“Hey Bulldog, who are you day dreaming about?”

Zane’s teasing voice brought a halt to his escalating train of thought. Ty narrowed his eyes at him, but the smile pulling at his lips didn’t help sell an irate impression.

“Is it that dominatrix who promised to make you scream?” Perrimore asked from his desk a few feet away.

Ty groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. A few months ago, Alston was privy to a lewd text Zane had sent Ty while they were at a meeting in McCoy’s office. The whole team had been ribbing him ever since. Thankfully, he had saved Zane’s name as Lone Star or else the tumbling consequences would’ve been uncomfortable, to say the least. They couldn’t afford that faux pas.

“You know anything about this chick, Garrett?” Lassiter asked, edging closer in his swivel chair.

Zane met Ty’s eyes, a spark of amusement in those dark depths. Just as he opened his mouth to answer, McCoy’s deep voice boomed across the room.

“Garrett! Grady! My office, now!” McCoy’s bald head was sticking out of his door as he bellowed at them.

“What did you do this time?” Lassiter asked.

“Wasn’t me,” Ty said, frowning. None of the photocopiers had blown up in the past few months and he did most of his paperwork without complaining. Zane chuckled, shuffling around the files on his desk.

When they entered McCoy’s office, he was already seated behind his desk, and the projector screen on the wall was playing what looked like surveillance footage.

“This is about the meth ring case,” McCoy cut to the chase, gesturing them to sit down.

The meth ring case was one of the more intriguing ones the bureau had been working on currently. FBI’s Drug Enforcement wing had teamed up with Baltimore PD to sleuth around a network of opioid suppliers and users in the city. The case had gained traction after they discovered that the key ingredient in the meth was a decongestant found in cold and allergy medicines of a major pharmaceutical company. When FBI had put in an order to heavily supervise and control their over-the-counter medication, the company sued them for obstruction of goods. The company had won out. It was frustrating how much industry and corporate dollars affected legislation.

“Yesterday we narrowed down on a street-level dealer, and we may have stumbled upon a potential meth lab within city limits,” McCoy told them. He clicked on his laptop, winding back the CCTV footage.

It was the view of a deserted street, lit up by the orange glow of streetlamps. The timestamp showed it was well past 2 a.m. A lone man stood on the pavement, with a beanie cap pulled low over his head. The grainy video didn’t provide much quality, but Ty could tell that the guy was fidgeting and sneaking glances around. A black SUV pulled up on the other side of the road and Ty watched as a familiar petite figure got out of the vehicle and crossed the road.

“I didn’t know you tapped Clancy into this,” Zane said.

“We picked her last week. She managed to persuade some relapsed junkie into giving the guy’s number,” McCoy said.

Ty wasn’t surprised at all. Dealers often sought out destitute, strung-out recovering addicts, flaunting their little ziploc bags of molly and crack before vulnerable users like candy in front of excitable children. Ty chanced a sideways glance towards Zane, and felt a surge of pain and irritation. Ty knew full well how much Zane fought his impulses, and how close he’d come to plummeting into that black vortex of doom in the past. And assholes like Beanie Cap made it easier for people in recovery to return to their destructive pasts.

“You arrest him yet?” Ty asked, voice harsh and unyielding.

McCoy nodded. “BPD pulled him this morning. He ratted out the location of a meth lab he knew about.”

They watched as Clancy pulled out a packet stuffed under the leg of a garden bench and replaced it with a wad of cash. Beanie Cap just stood there, not acknowledging her presence in any way. Clancy briskly walked back to the SUV and the car blasted away into the empty night.

“Alston was in the car with her,” McCoy said, grinning. “She told this guy they just moved here from New York, wanted a new dealer. He didn’t bat an eyelid. Just asked 1K for an ounce of that shit.”

“Jesus,” Ty muttered.

On the screen, Beanie Cap stood rooted on the same spot. “He loitered around for half an hour before he took the cash,” McCoy said, fast-forwarding the clip. They watched Beanie Cap saunter towards the bench, swinging his arms casually. He sat down on the bench and removed the wad of cash from underneath the wrought iron leg. Ty got the distant impression he was whistling, even though there was no audio for the clip.

“Very careful, our guy,” McCoy said.

“Not careful enough to not land his ass in jail,” Zane said grimly, watching the screen.

McCoy turned off the projector and the screen turned black in a blink. “Now, about that meth lab he confessed about. Could be his other dealer buddies caught a whiff of police intervention and abandoned the place. Or, if we’re lucky, it could still be intact,” McCoy said, peering at them over the steeple of his fingers. “Clancy and Alston are rounding up on some other suppliers. I want you two to check out the premise, report back for suspicious activity.”

“Wait, you think it is an active cooking site? With specialized cooks and all?” Ty asked, eyebrows raised.

“You’re thinking about the super labs in west coast,” Zane told him. “With all the guides on the internet, anybody with some cough drops can brew up this stuff.”

Ty nodded, his lips pursed. Nobody in the office, not even McCoy, knew about Zane’s issues in the past with drug abuse. Burns had redacted all that information from his file, including his rehab stay.

“Anyway,” McCoy pressed on, “This maybe one of the many labs DEA warned us about.”

The DEA office in Washington DC had alerted them of a scourge of clandestine cooking operations blossoming in the city that specialized in a notoriously potent blue-colored crystal meth. These sporadic mom-and-pop labs were fueling Baltimore’s meth appetite. The once-taboo drug was now easier to score in some street corners than crack or pot.

“The locale is a run-down laundromat,” McCoy informed them.

“A laundromat,” Zane echoed. “That’s creative.”

“Service factories are hotspots for the bad guys,” Ty said drily.

McCoy nodded. “It could be solely a cover-up for the lab. I want you boys to tread lightly, in case they have workers held up against their will.” Ty nodded and grabbed the file about the potential cook joint. They were going to get these fuckers.

~~~*~~~

Ty parked the company issue Chevy Tahoe along the asphalt curb and killed the engine. He didn’t want to bring his beloved Mustang in case of a shootout and ensuing catastrophe. He wriggled into his Kevlar vest, watching Zane do the same in the passenger seat next to him.

“Your strap’s twisted,” Zane murmured, reaching out to untwine the fabric of Ty’s shoulder strap. Ty watched him with a fond smile. He remembered the first time Zane ever did this, back in New York. It had seemed like such an inconsequential gesture back then, but it never failed to make Ty’s heart flutter.

He grabbed Zane’s hand and pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles. They had an unspoken no-touching-in-the-workplace rule, but sometimes Ty couldn’t help himself. Zane’s eyes widened in surprise before he broke into a broad grin and leaned sideways to kiss Ty.

Ty laughed and pushed him away. Then he cast a cursory glance around. A SWAT car sat two streets away, full of men in tactical gear in case they needed backup. Their Tahoe was fully tinted, so no one could see anything unless they pressed their nose to the car window. But the urge to be cautious was ingrained in Ty.

Zane cleared his throat and loaded the magazine into his Glock, still smiling. Ty sighed as he watched him.

“I’m worried one day Alston will catch me doodling your name in the corner of my notepad,” Ty said, checking the ammunition of his own gun.

“You doodle my name in your notepad?”

“Mm-hmm. With Crayola. I even draw little red hearts around the Z.”

Zane’s smile was weary. “We’ll be careful. We always have been.”

Ty nodded and stepped out of the vehicle. This part of the town was desolate, with crumbling red-bricked buildings and storm drains clogged with plastic waste. Community groups and real-estate ventures had tried to jazz up the place, throwing in a boutique or two. But nobody could help with the crippling poverty and unemployment that plagued these parts.

At the end of the lane, there stood a gray building with a corrugated sign board advertising a laundromat. They stared at it, the bright afternoon sun bearing down on them. Ty nodded at Zane and pushed open the splintered door. They stood on the threshold and looked around. Inside was dozens of dryers and coin-operated washers mounted side by side. A long time ago these machines must have been whirring with dirty towels and sheets, but this building was now abandoned. It was evident in the peeling pink wallpaper and the grimy linoleum tiles.

“Hello? Anybody there?” Ty called out nonetheless.

There was no answer. Zane was already moving inside, his gun drawn and body tense. Ty shut the door and followed him. The interior was more or less the same. More idle washing equipment and plastic benches for waiting customers. Ty bend down and brushed a speck of dirt off the bench with his thumb. He wondered why nobody broke in and stole the washers. At the corner of the room was a heavily padlocked door.

“Basement storage unit?” Zane asked, eyeing the door.

Ty nodded. “Let’s check it out.” He examined the heavy padlock. It was a pin tumbler lock. Nick had taught him how to pick those a long time ago. Ty fished in his pocket for the Bogota rake pick he carried with him on missions.

Zane rolled his eyes as he watched. “Do you always carry your burglary equipment with you?”

“Hey, it comes in handy, doesn’t it?” Ty muttered, applying slight pressure as he slid the rake in. The lock opened with a loud click.

“Voila,” Ty said cheerfully, pulling at the steel chain from around the door handle. He pushed the heavy door open and peeked inside. Zane was right. It was a basement with a steep flight of stairs leading down to it.

Ty’s sense of foreboding grew as he climbed down. His gun was drawn, and Zane was right behind him. A musty stench filled his nostrils. At the bottom of the stairs, the sight that greeted Ty stopped him on his tracks.

A man stood at the other end of the basement, next to a rusty wardrobe. He was gaunt-looking, with scabs and sores on his face and arms. He held a shard of glass in his trembling hand.

“Get away from me,” the man barked, sounding frustrated rather than frightened that armed federal agents had barged in on him. _He is high,_ Ty realized.

“Sir, we mean no harm. Please put the glass down,” Zane said, his voice calm and composed. He lowered his own Glock just a little, almost like a treaty.

“Marty?” A small voice drifted from the wardrobe next to the man.

Several things happened at once.

The man swung open the wardrobe and pulled a little girl out. By the time Ty and Zane rushed halfway across the long basement, the man pressed the glass shard to her throat, almost touching her skin. 

“Move and I’ll cut her open,” the man growled.

Ty and Zane stood as motionless as wax statues. They were a good fifteen feet from the guy. They couldn’t disarm him physically but Ty could easily manage a clean shot. But he was terrified the man would somehow maim the kid before he went down. He wanted to see if they could negotiate without bloodshed.

The man held the little girl in front on him like a shield, even though the top of her head barely reached his midriff. His bloodshot eyes flickered between Ty and Zane.     

The little girl whimpered softly, tears streaming down her cheeks. _She is just a child_ , Ty thought. _Not a day over seven or eight._

“Quiet!” the man snarled, yanking at her hair forcefully.

“Hey, there is no need for that,” Ty said, instilling a calmness in his voice he wasn’t feeling. His mind raced back to the hostage negotiation class he took in Quantico. What was it that his professor said? _Empathize with your counterpart. Build a rapport._

“Marty,” Ty said, remembering the name the child spoke earlier. “Is that your name? Marty?”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Marty yelled, bringing a hand up to cover his ear, as if Ty’s voice was like blaring sirens to him. Yeah, the guy was definitely wasted on something. Ty’s bet was the crystal meth he was cooking in this very room.

“What is it that you want?” Zane asked gently. He was trying for de-escalation as well.

They waited with bated breath for him to answer.

“You’re not supposed to be here! No one’s supposed to be here! Eddie promised. He promised,” Marty said, sounding close to tears himself. Eddie was most likely the overseer and drug lord who ran this place.

“Will you let her go if we leave?” Ty tried in a coaxing tone.

The man mumbled something to himself, bringing up his gnarly hand to scratch an angry-looking sore on his arm. It was clear that he was going through a psychotic episode. There was no point in appealing to logic.

“Put the glass away, please. We can talk,” Ty said a bit more firmly.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Marty pressed the shard just a little too close for comfort. Beads of blood appeared on the child’s neck and her face crumpled as she screamed, struggling against his hold.

He had drawn blood. All negotiations and pacts went out the window. They had to act now.

“Now!” Zane roared.

In one swift motion, Ty raised his arm and pressed his index finger to the trigger. The deafening gunfire rang through the room and Marty staggered back as the bullet grazed through his shoulder, a spray of blood blotching the wall behind him.

He howled furiously, still clutching on to the rugged piece of glass. He’d failed to secure the child in his haste and she bolted towards Ty, crying hysterically. Ty wrapped his arms around her and picked her up.

Zane charged towards Marty, pulling out zip tie handcuffs from his pocket as he went. Marty brandished his piece of glass at him. Unperturbed, Zane rammed him elbow to Marty’s throat, striking hard and fast. Marty doubled over in pain, his shout coming out croaky. Zane kicked at his shin, toppling him on his ass, and then straddled him. He fastened the zip ties around Marty’s wrists deftly. The man grappled under him, kicking out his legs for some leverage. But his scrawny body was unmatched for Zane’s strength. Zane tied up his ankles as well, immobilizing him completely.

 Zane then spun around, meeting Ty’s eyes. The little girl had her arms around Ty’s neck, sobbing into his Kevlar vest. Ty ran a hand through her mane of frizzy brown hair, comforting her.

“Some birthday, huh?”

Zane closed his eyes and gasped for breath.  The bound man on the floor next to him was kicking and screaming, threatening all sorts of dismemberment and death.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few hours saw a flurry of activity. The street outside was jammed with a sea of bureau vehicles with roof lights blazing. The building was cordoned off by yellow crime scene tape. Zane stood in the derelict basement along a few other agents and forensic personnel. Now that crisis was averted, he took a good look around. The grubby wooden tabletop held gas masks, canisters of Coleman fuel and packages of cold medicine of the same drug company FBI was locking horns with. McCoy was going to have a field day with all the pharma lobbyists and top-end attorneys.

On the edge of the table lay a broken conical flask, a piece of which Marty Powell used to arm himself. Eddie Costello, the owner of the laundromat and a supplier within the upper echelons of the meth ring, was caught fleeing the country at the Mexican border. Right now, he was detained in a holding cell in FBI’s Albuquerque field office. News of Beanie Cap’s arrest had spread like wildfire and Marty had panicked. Costello had assured him that the cops wouldn’t come knocking and tasked him with packaging the remaining blocks of the turquoise blue crystals, leaving the door padlocked. Costello’s arrest would hopefully lead them to other kingpins in the trade.     

“Agent Garrett, check this out,” a young federal agent called out, pointing at a spiral notebook lying open on the table.

Zane put on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and leafed through the dog eared pages of the book. There were simple instructions written in faded biro ink. Instructions on how to cook crystal meth.

“Bag it with all the other evidence,” Zane told the rookie. The agent nodded and moved along.

Zane’s eyes fell on the evidence placard on the floor marking the shell casing of Ty’s weapon. The pistol lay on the table where he’d left it — with the ejection port up and the barrel pointed away.

Ty would be ticked off about the whopping paperwork he would have to file for discharging his firearm. Zane smiled at the thought. But it had been crucial to use lethal force, with the risk of serious bodily harm to a minor. Zane would back him up on that. He knew Ty had purposefully gone for a grazed wound, searing only the man’s skin. His partner was tactful about using his gun, always aiming for minimal damage. Zane on the other hand, had no qualms about putting a bullet through someone’s head if he felt his actions were justified. And he wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it. It was one of the many ways they both were wired so differently.

Zane climbed up the narrow stairwell. Camera shutters flashed in succession, photographing the evidence and casting an eerie glow on the bleak and dismal walls.

When Zane reached the top landing, he saw Ty sitting with the kid and a lady from Child Protective Services. The woman was trying to engage the girl in some banter, to no avail. Ty had shrugged off his bulletproof vest, and the kid clung to his Under Armour t-shirt like an ivy to an oak tree. The stab wounds on her throat were deemed superficial. An EMT had patched it up with some medical gauze. Those scars will heal, but the scorch of trauma and abuse would stay with her for a long time.

Ty glanced up when Zane approached them. He had clasped the girl’s tiny hand between his palms. “Hey Lily,” Ty told her softly, “This is Zane.”  

The kid’s pale blue eyes met Zane’s for a second, before she averted her glance to the floor. Zane kneeled down in front of them but he didn’t make an effort to move any closer. The little ones were always intimidated by his hulking mass. He didn’t want to spook her any more. “You’re going to be okay, Lily,” he said, smiling warmly. She just lowered her chin, snuggling closer to Ty. Children always had an affinity towards his partner, what with his silly humor and happy-go-lucky charm.

“Agent Grady here is great with kids,” the CPS representative chimed in, patting Ty’s arm playfully. “Very charming, actually.”

Now that Zane noticed, she was an attractive woman, with blonde hair tied up in a messy bun and a black pencil skirt and matching stilettos. And she was leaning a bit too close to Ty for Zane’s liking.

“Oh, he can be charming when he wants,” Zane drawled, watching his partner. Ty was looking at the floor studiously, a hot flush rising on his cheeks.

“Angela Palmer,” the woman introduced herself, shaking Zane’s hand.

“Can you watch her for a second, I need to talk to my partner,” Ty told Angela quietly. He ducked his head and brushed a stray hair from Lily’s face. “I’ll be right back, okay sweetie?” he murmured to her. Lily watched him move away with vacant, unblinking eyes, not saying anything. _The poor child’s in shock_ , Zane thought, his heart aching for her.

Ty grabbed Zane’s arm and moved towards the opposite corner of the huge laundromat. The cacophony of FBI agents and police officers striding to and fro the basement gave them some privacy.

“How’s she doing?” Zane asked.

Ty was already shaking his head. “Her name is the only thing she told me.”

“Have we notified next-of-kin?”

Ty stared at him, a grave expression etched on his face.

“What?” Zane asked, feeling a bundle of nerves in his stomach.

“That prick is her dad, Zane,” Ty said grimly.

A blaze of anger crashed through Zane like an ocean tide. He’d deduced they had to be related in some manner for her to be in the premise, but he didn’t expect the bastard to hold a weapon to his own daughter’s throat. On some level, though, Zane understood. Drugs were a powerful illusion. A tool that promised a cornucopia of sensual pleasures, a safe abode on the tip of a hypodermic needle. But it was an illusion that blackened and marred one’s soul. Zane had learned it the hard way.

Over Ty’s shoulder, he saw Lily watching them dolefully, her fingers tightly clutching the Tropicana juice box Angela gave her.

“He’s going to be incarcerated for good. Methamphetamine manufacturing _and_ endangering a minor. She doesn’t have any other relatives, Zane,” Ty whispered.

“How are they going to proceed?” Zane asked, not taking his eyes off Lily.

“CPS will keep her in protective custody for 72 hours. After that, they’ll move on with foster care.”

Zane’s eyes flickered back to Ty. He looked just as miserable as Zane felt. They both were familiar with how the foster care system worked. The odds of neglected children making it ranged from zero to astronomical. They could only pray.

Half an hour later, they watched her climb into a car with Angela in tow, holding a small teddy bear Ty had purchased for her from the boutique down the street. As they waved her goodbye, Zane noticed that her blue eyes held an icy tinge, as if the fire in them was extinguished. Zane hoped for her sake that it wasn’t.

~~~*~~~

A waitress at the Greene Turtle Bar & Grill raised an eyebrow when another shout of laughter emerged from their table. Zane flashed her an apologetic grin and mouthed sorry. The table was crammed with confetti, glitter streamers, chicken poppers, a platter of cupcakes and six federal agents laughing like idiots. They were listening to Ty revive the tale of how he pranked Frank from PR into thinking the caramel-coated onions he brought to office were caramel apple treats.

“Then he held it up by the wooden stick, took a bite, nodding his head seriously like a sous-chef, and said, ‘It’s more tangy than usual apples. You must have used the Granny Smith variety.’”

The whole table burst out laughing. Alston toppled sideways, blue cupcake frosting smudged on his nose. “Oh god. Granny Smith variety,” he breathed out.

Zane snorted as he listened to the retelling for probably the hundredth time. He had helped Ty with the prank the night before — microwaving the caramel and pouring the gooey liquid over the onions. He didn’t think anyone would fall for it, but Frank from PR had been Ty’s unsuspecting victim.

“And he had a piece of onion on his chin when he left,” Ty told them.

“Poor Frank,” Clancy giggled. “He was too embarrassed to admit he’d been pranked.”

“That’s what made it funnier,” Perrimore pointed out.

Clancy pressed a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She wore a cone birthday hat, the pink foil fringe on the base clashing horribly with her red hair. She made Zane wear a pink princess tiara, threatening to glue to his hair if Zane removed it. He had left it there, afraid that she might actually follow through with the threat.

After an hour-long debriefing at the office, Ty and Zane came here to meet the others, because it would be too late to go back home and don glitzy clothes. They were in a surprisingly pleasant mood, given the day’s grueling events. 

The team kept the conversation light and carefree. Their joy and vigor made it easy for Zane to ignore the shots of malt-whiskey on the table.

“Why are there only three candles?” Ty said to no one in particular, frowning at the narrow, striped birthday candles next to the cupcakes.

“What, you want forty-four of them?” Zane asked him.

“God, dude. Can’t believe you’re actually forty-four,” Lassiter said, shaking his head.

“Take it from me, Zane, you don’t look a day over thirty-five,” Clancy assured him. Zane beamed as another round of hoots and groans rang through the table.

This time, the waitress actually came over. “Last week, a group of third graders were more decent than you guys,” she chided, but her eyes were twinkling.

“I bet none of them told you how beautiful you are,” Alston crooned. The waitress laughed and waved his off, already moving towards another table. Alston gave them an I-had-to-try shrug as Clancy patted his arm mock-consolingly.

“Weak form, Scott,” Ty critiqued, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alston scowled. “What do you know, you don’t come barhopping with me anymore.” He sat up a little straighter. “Jesus, Ty, do you even get laid anymore? Or are you a celibate now?”

Zane carefully examined the glitter streamer in front of him, twisting it between his thumb and index fingers. He figured if he met someone's eyes he might accidentally divulge to them a rough estimate of how often Ty got laid.

“I figured the odds would be higher if I ditched you,” came Ty’s teasing remark. That elicited a series of awws from the group and Ty chuckled when Alston threw a handful of confetti at him.

“Besides, as the old saying goes, it’s best to leave sex and politics out of dinner conversations,” Lassiter said primly.

“It is religion and politics, numbnuts,” Perrimore ragged him.

Zane listened to them argue with a faint smile. As his thoughts drifted away, he that realized Ty had come out to his Sidewinder team in this very bar, prompting an eclectic mix of responses. From Owen furiously storming off to Nick kissing Ty. But that was all water under the bridge now. He had made his peace with Nick, albeit tentatively. Zane now wondered how _this_ group of friends would take that news. He desperately wanted to talk to them about it, to tell them that he and Ty were going steady and were crazy about each other. Because, after all, these were his best friends. Somewhere between the firing range practices and high-speed car chases and tailing suspicious informants, he had developed a level of camaraderie and loyalty with the people on this table that he never felt before. And he wanted to share his best kept secret with them. As soon as he retired, Zane promised himself. Because that was the distant mirage to which they postponed all their aspirations. He and Ty would sit them down and break the news and watch their dumbstruck expressions unfold. That itself would be worth the wait.

~~~*~~~

Zane stood in the bedroom of their row house, stretching and working on the kinks of his neck. It was well into the night when their little dinner party ended, and now Zane was dead beat. He wanted nothing more than to curl up next to his lover and sleep like a log. But Zane didn’t think they’d be sleeping anytime soon. Because one round of birthday sex on the granite kitchen counter wasn’t suffice for either of them.

He shoved aside the comforter and climbed into bed, reclining against the tufted headboard. Ty was in the guest bedroom on the second floor landing, working on uncovering his birthday gift for Zane. Ty had taunted him about the gift all week, saying it was a real mystery. Zane only hoped it wasn’t a baby jaguar or puma Ty had absconded from some wildlife sanctuary. His brows furrowed when he heard Ty’s heavy footfalls. Ty never made any noise when he moved, prowling quietly, almost sinuously, like a large cat. Moments later, Ty stood at the doorjamb, holding a heavy-looking rectangular box and grinning from ear to ear.

He dropped the box at Zane’s feet and plopped down next to him. Zane eyed it warily, expecting rattling or hissing noises.

“Go on, open it up,” Ty prompted, nodding at the box.

Zane ran a finger over the birthday wrapping paper with little blue balloons all over it. His boyfriend displayed a childlike exuberance when it came to giving and receiving presents. It was endearing, really. He gave Ty an indulgent smile and unraveled the paper carefully. Inside was a box set of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot series. Ty knew all about Zane’s fondness for classic murder mystery novels.

Zane barked a laugh. “So this is what you meant when you said your gift is a mystery.”

“You always liked double entendre,” Ty said, still grinning.

Zane yanked him closer and dragged his nose over Ty’s cheekbone. “Thank you, baby. I love it,” Zane whispered against his skin. Ty titled his chin slightly, seeking out a kiss. Zane cupped his face before brushing his lips against Ty’s softly. Ty hummed into the kiss, his fingertips dragging over Zane’s shoulder. They pressed their foreheads together when they broke apart. Ty then lounged back on the bed, pulling Zane with him. Zane curled up beside him, propping his head up on his elbow.

“Angela from CPS called earlier,” Ty said. “Because of all the racket with the case, they are keeping Lily at their emergency shelter indefinitely. At least until the administrative hearings office figures out what to do next.”

“That’s good,” Zane agreed. “That’ll give her some stability for the time being.” Then his brooding look turned into a sly smile. “You know that CPS lady has the hots for you, right?”

“Ugh, Zane. You know blonds don’t do it for me. My type is dark hair.”

“Your type is a gun, doll,” Zane said with a smirk, dragging a finger over Ty’s bottom lip. Ty swatted at his hand before grabbing it and placing a kiss on his palm.

“Do you remember my birthday last year when we went trekking?” Zane asked, voice gone low and intimate. “You went down on me for the first time in the woods.”

“Oh my god.” Color rose in Ty’s cheeks as he reminisced. “My balls were freezing and I was kinda worried dad or Deuce would pop up from behind the trees. But mostly I was too fucking horny to care.”

Zane laughed and pressed a kiss on the crown of Ty’s head. “You and me both, baby.”

Ty raised his head, regarding Zane with a mixture of lust and amusement. Zane knew that look. That was Ty’s you’re-getting-fucked-hard look, and Zane always had a Pavlovian reaction to it. Sure enough, all his blood rushed south and goosebumps rose on his flesh. Ty rose up on his elbows and kissed Zane, pressing their lips together firmly. Then he pushed Zane to his back and climbed atop him, kissing him all the while.

“You wear too many damn clothes,” Ty grumbled, pawing at Zane’s t-shirt. Zane raised his arms to help him pull it off.

“Am I supposed to strip down naked every time you enter the room?”

“Do that next time,” Ty rasped, his teeth nipping at Zane’s collarbone. He slid down Zane’s body, leaving a trail of wet and sloppy kisses at his neck and chest. Zane cursed softly when Ty flicked his tongue over a nipple before sucking the hardened bud into his mouth. He pinched the other nipple as he trailed his tongue over the hard ridges and muscles on Zane’s stomach. He then sat down on his knees and cocked his head appreciatively over Zane’s body.

Zane saw Ty’s hungry eyes trace the prominent bulge pushing at the seam of his sweatpants. Zane had gone commando and the thin material of his sweats did nothing to conceal his straining erection. Ty’s fingers curled under his waistband and he pulled the pants down. Zane’s cock jutted out, all thick and flushed, with pearly drops of precome dripping at the head.

Ty held his gaze as he gripped the base of Zane’s cock and swirled his tongue over the glans. Zane groaned and tipped his head back, wallowing in the exquisite sensation. Giving head was something Ty was exceptionally good at, and Zane reaped the benefits constantly. Ty rubbed the broad flat of his tongue firmly up and down Zane’s shaft several times, and then he let go of Zane’s cock completely. Before Zane could protest, he shuffled lower and nuzzled at Zane’s balls. He sucked one of them into his mouth, rolling his tongue gently around it, his fingers moving further down to massage the skin at Zane’s perineum. Zane stared, transfixed by the sultry show. Then Ty sat up all too quickly.

“Turn around, Zane,” he said, voice low and gravelly. Zane swallowed hard as he watched Ty slip his hand down his own sweatpants and stroke his aching cock. His usually placid hazel eyes were trending towards brown, flared with molten heat. Zane didn’t stay still long enough to find out if Ty undressed himself; he rolled onto his stomach and got on all fours. He felt Ty press up behind him, the corded muscles of Ty’s belly flush against his back. He hissed when Ty’s teeth scraped sharply at the nape of his neck.

“Please, baby. I need you,” Zane begged, pushing his hips back against Ty’s hard cock. He felt the warmth of Ty’s skin move away as his lover rummaged their nightstand for lube. Zane blinked through the haze crowding his mind. Ty never immediately obliged Zane’s pleas to fuck him; he always teased and tortured before plunging in. He must have been too far gone to play games this time. Zane’s mouth curved into a smile at the thought.

He gasped when he felt the blunt head of Ty’s cock nudging at his rim.

“Is this what you want?” Ty growled, gnawing at Zane’s shoulder, placing stinging bites there.

“Oh god, yes,” Zane panted, his heart hammering in his chest in anticipation.

Ty placed a steadying hand on Zane’s waist and drove in, pushing past the tight ring of sphincter muscles that fought him.

Zane let out a lascivious moan and bent down to press his forehead against the pillow. There was nothing Zane enjoyed more than Ty fucking him on his knees until he begged for mercy. There was something so earthy and primal about it. He loved the feel of Ty’s calloused palm on his lower back as he held him down. Loved Ty’s warm, ragged breaths when he slouched forward to kiss him. More than anything, he loved the glorious fullness of Ty’s cock buried up to the hilt inside him.

Ty’s strokes were maddeningly slow. He pushed his shaft in leisurely, ground his hips in a circle, and then almost pulled out before thrusting in again. Zane’s eyes drifted close when ripples of pleasure stirred in his groin. His whimpers and moans were completely uninhibited. He knew how much Ty liked hearing the sounds he made when they fucked, so he didn’t curtail any of it.

Zane felt Ty’s fingertips skim lightly over his back. He knew Ty was tracing the faded scars from the explosion in New York. Zane gulped as an inexplicable wave of emotion surged through him.

Ty wrapped an arm around Zane and claimed his mouth in a scorching kiss. His tongue darted inside Zane’s parted lips, assaulting his mouth, while his thrusts inside Zane’s ass was still slow and rhythmic.

Zane leaned back and clutched Ty’s hips. “C’mon, baby. Fuck me hard. I know you want to.”

Ty groaned and pressed his face to Zane’s shoulder blades. He then picked up his pace, shoving into Zane with more force. Zane undulated under him, rocking his hips to meet Ty’s thrusts.

Zane cried out when Ty drove him into the mattress with each buck of his hips, the cotton sheets sliding under his knees. Zane went willingly, giving himself completely over to Ty. He knew Ty was close. It was evident in his labored breathing and strained muscles.

Zane craned his neck to look back. Ty had squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, fighting his own orgasm. Zane could make out that the skin on his chest and neck was flushed red with arousal and exertion.

Ty widened his stance and drove into Zane. He shouted hoarsely when his climax bore down on him, filling Zane up with spurts of his cum, just like he asked for.

He then flipped Zane on his back and knelt down to take his cock into his mouth again. Zane moaned when Ty hollowed his cheeks and took his shaft into the back of his throat. Zane could feel the jolts of pleasure building up in his gut. He fought to keep his eyes open as he watched Ty’s mouth stretched wide around his cock, bobbing up and down the length skillfully. His orgasm started as a tingling sensation in his toes and coursed all over his body. His thighs quivered as he came down Ty’s throat, flooding him with his cum. Waves of dizziness from the mind-blowing orgasm made him close his eyes and he slumped back on the pillow. Several seconds passed before he looked down. Ty lay with his cheek on Zane’s belly, looking up at him with glazed eyes.

“Come here,” Zane murmured, holding out his hand.

Ty grinned and crawled over Zane’s body to lay on top of him again. Zane felt a swell of possessiveness when he tasted himself on Ty’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, birthday boy,” Ty cooed, placing feather-light kisses on his chin and jawline. They lay there for several more minutes, all sweaty sheets and tangled limbs. Then Ty rolled to his side and pushed back against Zane, in a silent bid to be cuddled.

Zane laughed as he wrapped his arms around Ty. “I didn’t peg you to be such a snuggle bunny when we met.”

Ty chuckled. “That’s not what snuggle bunny means.”

Zane frowned. “Yes it does. It means someone who snuggles a lot.”

“No, it means a romantic partner.”

"Huh". Zane pressed his mouth to Ty’s shoulder as he pondered on the new denotation. “Okay, I didn’t peg you to be _my_  snuggle bunny when we met.”

“Are you complaining?” Ty asked, the smirk evident in his tone.

“Not one bit,” Zane said, tightening his arms around him. His innate sixth-sense told him that their relationship would have to weather a lot of storms in the future. But right now, they had this. And this was damn near perfect.   

 


End file.
